Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

It was a dark and rainy night as thunderclouds thrust themselves upon the land. Not unusual weather for England, especially in autumn. But tonight was going to be an unusual night. Very unusual, indeed. On this dark, moonless night, an act was about to be committed that would shake the Wizarding World to its very core. The moment was near now, but while all of England slept, they would wake up to a very different world. And a very frightening one.

The Minister of Magic rubbed his forehead and tried to focus on his work. He hadn't gotten a decent night's sleep in the year since he had replaced Kingsley Shacklebolt as the Minister. Melvin Farrell had been a compromise candidate for the job, and was the youngest Minister ever to hold the post. Now, part of him wished he had never accepted the job. Sure, it paid well enough, and all the prestige and influence that came with it was nice, but...filling Kingsley Shacklebolt's shoes was no small task. There was no way, Farrell thought, for himself to compare to this giant of a man. Before his tenure as Minister, Shacklebolt had been a senior auror, had assisted in defeating Lord Voldemort, and had been a powerful member of the Order of the Phoenix. And that didn't even compare to the things he had done as Minister. Rebuilding the Ministry from the ground up with the help of Harry Potter and others, establishing a fairer system of laws, presiding over an era of peace he had helped create...Farrell had the horrible sinking feeling that he himself would go down in history as the mediocre man who replaced a beloved leader. Just then, a vigorous pounding on the door startled him from his thoughts. Before he could say "Come in," the mystery knocker already had. It was Junior Undersecretary Edward H. Smith. Farrell was, to put it one way, rather confused.

"Now see here, Smith, what is this all abo-," Farrell started off, but was soon interrupted.

"Sir! Sir! Something's happened! Evil's returned to the land, sir!" Smith said, breathlessly.

"What?! What is it?"

Just then, Smith started sobbing uncontrollably. Farrell couldn't understand what was going on.

"Smith, what's happened? Has there been an unexpected death?"

"Yes, yessir," Smith managed to choke out.

"I'm terribly sorry. Was it your mother? I remember you saying that she-,"

Smith shook his head. "No sir, not my mother. Its not in the family. It's...it's...Harry Potter."

Farrell's face turned a deathly pale. "Smith...that's not funny. This isn't a joke. Now tell me what the hell is going on or-,"

Smith shook his head again. "It's not a joke, sir. The Potter's house-elf heard a crash sometime around midnight. When he went to investigate, he went into the Potter's bedroom, and he...he saw...he saw..."

"Saw what, Smith? What did he see?!"

"Blood, sir. The bed sheets soaked with it. Harry and Ginny Potter were...they were murdered, sir."

Farrell felt his legs go weak, and he clutched the desk for support. Smith started crying quietly. Harry and Ginny Potter...dead? But how? Why? They were some of the most beloved people in the land. Who would want to kill them? The Minister regained control of himself long enough to tell Smith to summon the Wizengamot and all the undersecretaries. He also sent for the one man who might be able to find out who had done this...Chief Inspector Francis Elliot Macy.